


Caps-lock

by Sirius_1910



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eddie Kaspbrak is my son, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Henry Bowers Being an Asshole, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rated T for Trashmouth, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Sorry again, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, also slurs, blends book and movie, but violence for Henry, cause he's a little bitch, it starts rough but it gets better, it's all just a gay mess, like me, so I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirius_1910/pseuds/Sirius_1910
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak had a complicated relationship with soulmates.It’s not that he hated the idea. Eddie thoroughly believed in soulmates, and he was quite fond of them. In fact, the whole thing gave him a sense of reassurance—knowing the universe had stored someone just for him, and even giving a clue. Imprinted in your soulmate’s writing, their first words to you adorned your skin. Eddie wanted someone he’d feel comfortable with, someone who loved him and understood him. And the words he had on his arms, although vulgar, assured him there was.So no, Eddie Kaspbrak did not hate soulmates. He hated his soulmate.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 380
Collections: FINISHED STORIES √





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first time writing for the It fandom so bare with me lol it was about fucking time I did though because It has slowly consumed me and I just *inhales* live for it. Anyways, if it isn't too obvious already, I love Eddie with my whole everything so it's mostly his POV. I've mixed the book and the movie, cause the movie just doesn't sit right to me with some (a lot) of stuff.  
> I wrote this from a prompt I saw in Tumblr that said something like “A has ‘fuck you!’ written and B this gigantic rant that goes OH! SO YOU’RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO GAVE ME THE WORST POSSIBLE SOULMATE MARK EVER!"  
> WELP happy reading I hope you like it! Thanks for clicking it ♡

Eddie Kaspbrak had a complicated relationship with soulmates.

It’s not that he hated the idea. Eddie thoroughly believed in soulmates, and he was quite fond of them. In fact, the whole thing gave him a sense of reassurance—knowing the universe had stored someone just for him, and even giving a clue. Imprinted in your soulmate’s writing, their first words to you adorned your skin. Eddie wanted someone he’d feel comfortable with, someone who loved him and understood him. And the words he had on his arms, although vulgar, assured him there was.

So no, Eddie Kaspbrak did not hate soulmates. He hated _his_ soulmate.

**

  
Eddie was six years old when he understood his mark.

  
Before that, he’d been constantly told by his mother that he didn’t need a soulmate. He had his mother who cared for him and loved him, and that was enough. Eddie didn’t pick on the hatred and resentment Sonia felt towards the person that would take her son away from her. The first time she saw the mark on his arm, she had a strong urge to rip it off Eddie’s delicate body. Someone who would say _that_ the first time they met her boy did not deserve him. Sonia _despised_ them.

  
Eddie would never be seen with short sleeves. He would melt under the summer heat, but it was better than disobeying his Mommy. He’d developed anxiousness towards showing his soulmark, far too embarrassed of something he didn’t quite comprehend.

  
He was six and watching from the bleachers how his classmates played baseball. He was not allowed to play with them, for as his mother said, he had ‘fragile lungs’ and was ‘allergic’. So he watched the other six-year-olds roll around in the grass, laughing and yelling under the blazing sun. Even though he was sitting in a place where soft shadow fell, fat drops of sweat trickled down the sides of his face to his neck. He kept wiping them out with the sleeve of his shirt.

  
“Aren’t you hot in that?” A voice spoke from under him, next to his seat in the bleachers. He looked down and was met by a questioning look. The kid was holding a bird book, and he had binoculars hanging from his neck. Under his gaze, Eddie felt as if he had been caught in the act, and was being judged by an adult, not a kid the same age as him. But this boy irradiated a maturity and serenity Eddie had never seen before.  
“Um, no,” Eddie lied.

  
“You’re sweating,” The kid stated as a matter-of-factly. Before Eddie could backfire with another lie like he was used to doing, he spoke again. “I have an extra shirt if you want.” He pointed to his backpack.

  
“No, thanks,” Eddie was quick to answer, wrinkling his nose. _God knows where that shirt has been._

  
“Hey, you can give it back tomorrow, and it’s just been washed.” The kid said, as if he had read Eddie’s mind. He gaped at him, not sure how to answer now. It was very hot. And he could change the shirt before his mother saw. Plus, the kid dressed nice and neat, so accepting the shirt may not be that bad. “I’m Stan,” He spoke again while Eddie took his time answering.

  
“Eddie,”

  
“So…”

  
“Yeah, I’d like the T-shirt, thanks.” Eddie shyly smiled for the first time to this kid, whom he hoped he would be able to call friend. Stan just stared back, and got his shirt.

  
Eddie changed into Stan’s high collared beige shirt underneath the bleachers and stared at his arms. His inked soulmark stood out against his pale skin, which had never seen the sun, shouting from the area on his inner right forearm, next to his elbow.

  
“Hey, Eddie,” Stan called from somewhere above, catching him off guard. Instinctively, Eddie wrapped his arms around himself, feeling utterly exposed. He half expected his mother to come waddling to him yelling; _Eddie-Bear! What are you doing? You’re almost naked! Cover your skin, it's very delicate, Eddie—!”_

  
“Are you done yet? They started playing again.” Stan interrupted his screaming mother. She faded away with a distant echo.

  
“Yeah, coming,”

  
Stan gave him a side glance when Eddie sat next to him. He felt Stan’s calculating brown eyes fix on his mark, burning down on him. He swiftly hid it, holding his arm close to his body, and broke Stan’s penetrating gaze.

  
They watched the game in silence—Stan using his binoculars for a closer look at the players—and eventually, the sun started setting and the kids ended the game. They slowly separated ways and headed home. Stan and Eddie hung back a bit.

  
“Is your soulmark the reason why you burn under the heat intentionally?” Stan nonchalantly asked. Eddie knew he’d bring the subject up and as much as it terrified him, he felt like he could trust his new friend.

  
Eddie took a gigantic drag of his aspirator before mumbling. “Maybe,”

  
“Hey, why don’t you losers play?” They both turned towards the voice that spoke from the other side of the fence. A shaggy, blond boy Eddie crossed a few times at school stood there, a bat in his hand. He was careful in keeping his distance, for he made fun of Eddie’s asthma. He figured Stan wasn’t fond of him either.

  
“What do you care, Henry?” Stan bit back. He got up, followed by Eddie, and got down from the bleachers, trying to walk away from the bigger boy. Henry smirked, quickly getting to the door of the fence and following them.

  
“You undressing for him, Wheezy?” Henry tsked, “Such a little boy shouldn’t show so much skin.”

  
Against all his thoughts that screamed at him to run in the other direction and not take Henry’s words to heart, Eddie turned. “Shut up! And my name’s not—”

  
“What the hell,” Henry’s cold eyes fixated on Eddie’s arm, and here Eddie understood. Understood how his mother had been just trying to protect him. Understood the reason behind the irrational fear of showing his mark. Understood the words “ _Fuck you!_ ” messily written on his skin weren’t something to be proud and happy about.

  
Stan tugged at his shirt. _Move_ , it said. Eddie broke away from the disturbing eyes of Henry Bowers, and started walking again, faster this time.

  
“Jesus,” Eddie heard Henry madly cackle behind him. He let them go that day, too busy taking in his new discovery and plotting the many ways to put it at use. He’d get away that day, but Henry was never letting him go.

  
**

  
When he was thirteen years old, his world crumbled, and it wasn’t because of his soulmate.

  
Like a sandcastle, he watched as his wave came to tear him down in the form of his longtime bully Henry Bowers. Eddie had been leaving Mr. Keene’s drug store, when Henry and his friends spotted him and looked at him with a maniac kind of hunger in their eyes. Eddie stood there for a moment, his soft brown eyes wide, and turned to run, but a hand grabbed him by the collar before he could take one step and yanked him back with a force that had him tumbling down onto the floor. He landed with a dry _thud_.

  
“Hey there, _slut_ ,” Henry crouched down and seized Eddie’s shoulders, speaking so close he could smell the rotten odor that came from Henry’s foul mouth. “Watcha got there, huh? Things for your soulmate to _fuck you_ , you little sissy?”

  
“Fuck off, Bowers,” Eddie tried to control the tremble in his voice.

  
“Grab him,” Between Belch Huggins and Victor Criss, they dragged a kicking Eddie all the way to Richard’s Alley, out of the passerby’s sight. They forced him down onto the floor again, scraping his knees and hands.

  
Eddie yelped as Henry forcefully closed his calloused hand around his thin right wrist and held it up, inspecting his soulmark. Henry’s obsession with picking on Eddie for his mark had him thinking, more than once, if it was because Henry didn’t have a soulmate. Or if his mark was worse than his and he hated it too, taking his rage out on Eddie.

  
Either way, Eddie had had enough of his bullshit.

  
“Cut it out of his skin, Henry,” Patrick Hockstetter grinned, his tongue darting out to moist his chapped lips. Eddie’s breath hitched. He felt the all too familiar feel of his throat closing up and ached for his inhaler.

  
“Get your _fucking_ hands off me.” Eddie spat. This seemed to amuse all the big boys, except Henry. He had a look in his eyes that had Eddie recoiling. But he wouldn’t back down.

  
“Did you say something, Wheezy?” Henry pushed him from behind, Eddie’s chin scrapping on the cement, and pulled his arm. He made a strangled noise at the back of his throat. He was running out of air. “Say it again, fucker,”

  
Instead of speaking, Eddie started giggling. The exhilarating sense that resulted from finally experiencing real pain was sharply cut when Henry pulled his arm further, and a cracking sound broke in the stillness of the air.  
Eddie cried out and fell limp underneath his bully.

  
“Henry,” Victor Criss spoke with a warning tone. He’d been watching if anyone came down the Alley, and if the anxious look on his face meant anything, it was that not only was someone coming, but it was big trouble.  
Through blurry eyes, Eddie saw them run and scatter, and his last thought before losing consciousness was how his mom will give him hell, but finally, finally, he felt _real_. And, in some way, he had his soulmate to thank that for.

  
**

  
Eddie was seventeen years old when, again, he stood as a sandcastle next to the raging sea.

  
He’d been living in fear of judgmental eyes, avoiding Henry Bowers like poison, being careful of showing his mark, but not to the point of wearing long sleeves 24/7 like when he was little. As the years passed, he realized how fucked up it was with his mother, and worked up the courage to stand up to her. He’d thrown away all his pills, though he still had a habit of worrying for sickness and germs, and sometimes needed his inhaler too when things got ugly, but never under the suffocating pressure of Sonia’s influence. Stan Uris helped a lot with everything. He really was his best friend. Even if he could be very tough-headed at times.

  
“Stan, are you serious right now?” Eddie had been trying for over an hour to get Stan out of Derry’s Public Library. Since Stan’s boyfriend (and soulmate) worked and practically lived there, his best friend thought it would be a great idea to follow his steps. Stan had assured him, he would have to put ‘some books’ in their place and they would be ‘on their way to the Aladdin’. The pile of books waiting to be sorted begged to differ.

  
“Come on, Eddie, it’ll be just a minute.” Stan was holding in his hand about three books, which he was meticulously placing in the shelf that read _Romance_ , while Eddie struggled with the last ten or so books in his arms.

  
“We’re gonna miss the show,”

  
“We’re not,”

  
Just then, a boy came into the section they were in, looking lost with his phone in his hand. Eddie glanced at him, and thought _oh please, let him not ask anything to_ —and his thoughts were cut short when he took him in. The boy was messy, to say in the least, not quite to Eddie’s liking. Disheveled clothes, a nest of black curly hair and taped glasses that slid down his nose. But his _features_ —long, elegant fingers; deep brown eyes; plump lips; soft skin—Holy shit, Eddie was enthralled.

  
The boy looked at his phone when it chimed and frowned. Disbelief and anger passed through his attractive features and—

  
And then he said it.

  
“ _Fuck you!_ ” The boy screamed at his phone. Stan whirled his head around to look at him, and if Eddie had been paying attention, he would have been worried for his friend’s neck. But Eddie just stared open-mouthed at the boy and dropped his books.

  
Stan had barely opened his mouth to unleash hell on both of them for making so much noise, when Eddie beat him to it. This was his moment.

  
“OH! SO YOU’RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO GAVE ME THE WORST POSSIBLE SOULMATE MARK EVER! I’VE HAD TO STAND SO MUCH SHIT BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND, THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN HAVING THE WORDS “Fuck you!” PERMANENTLY MARKED ON YOUR SKIN!” How he didn’t get an asthma attack after unloading that wrath was a mystery beyond comprehension. Now it was Stan’s turn to gape.

  
The taller boy took it all in with eyes as wide as moons, and at the end a smug grin crossed his face. “Well, imagine having that fucking essay written on your back in caps-lock.”

  
Eddie just stared, breathing heavily.

  
Stan was the first to process what had just happened, and broke the tension by breaking down, laughing and clutching his stomach. “I’m so lucky to have seen this moment,” He gasped out. He didn’t remember the last time he’d laugh this hard.

  
“Shut up,” Eddie grumbled and kicked his shin.

  
The taller boy had dropped his grin to a gentle smile, and was looking at Eddie like he was an angel fallen on Earth. “If I’d known you’d be this cute I wouldn’t have been complaining for the past seventeen years for my mark. I’m gonna have to apologize to Bill about this,” The boy laughed. Eddie flushed red to his ears _(his laugh, his laugh, I can’t get enough of it)_ and crossed his arms.

  
“Can’t say the same thing, dickhead,”

  
“Woah, cute and feisty, just my type.” Stan kept laughing. “Richie Tozier’s the name and doing voices is mah game.” Richie extravagantly bowed, grinning up at Eddie.

  
“I’m Eddie,” He spoke softer now. If this boy was his soulmate, then he would have to stop hating his mark; Richie was totally worth it. He couldn’t wait to get to know him better.

  
Stan finally controlled his laughter. “I hate to cut you guys short, but if we keep this up the movie is going to start without us.”

  
“Right, now you care about the movie.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

  
“You off to the Aladdin? I was too! My friends are waiting for me there.” Richie piped up.

  
“Oh… well, um, should we join parties?”

  
“Only if you want to Eds,”

  
“If you don’t call me that, sure,”

  
Richie chuckled. Eddie huffed, but smiled. Stan shook his head. He felt—knew—that Richie was going to make Eddie content; their chemistry was unmistakable. That was the important thing. After all these years, Eddie Kaspbrak deserved to be happy. They deserved each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't fuck this up, it was such a challenge for me.💔I just couldn't help myself to part from this cute one-shot X)  
> Enjoy Richie's side of the story!

Richie Tozier had never been a romantic person.

Sure, he believed in all that soulmate crap—it was there, you couldn’t deny it—but he never took it all too seriously. Unlike his friend Ben Hanscom, the hopeless romantic, who wrote a haiku to the girl he liked when he was eleven years old. And because it all works out for Ben, it turned out that the girl, Beverly Marsh, was his soulmate. Richie couldn’t complain though. They were the coolest people he knew, alongside Bill Denbrough.

But Richie _did_ complain. Because he was Richie. And Bill had to suffer all that.

**

Richie was known by everyone as the obnoxious loud kid who couldn’t control his mouth. He was smart, had great grades, but his behaviour got him into a lot of trouble, a lot of times, with any type of people. Grownups, kids their age, dogs, you name it. Until he met Bill Denbrough when they were six.

They’d instantly hit off. Richie had always been made fun of for his (often broken) glasses that made him have a constant expression of surprise, or his big front teeth. So, he was being laughed at by the other kids as much as they laughed with him. When Bill arrived, in all his stuttering glory, it wasn’t long before he started suffering from mockery too.

Bill had been the one to reach out to Richie. The restless boy hadn’t directed a word to him in particular because he thought, if the kids got over his stutter, he’d be pretty popular. Hell, Bill was eye-catching even at that age, with his red shiny hair and understanding gray eyes. No one could deny Bill Denbrough would become a very handsome man in the future.

So Richie was properly stunned when he talked to him, and it was not to make fun of his glasses, or his quirky mouth. Bill spoke to him as an equal, casually asking if he wanted to hang out sometime to play. Without a second thought, Richie had said yes. Well, he’d said _‘It would be my honour, mistah’_ with a trashy British accent. But that was just how Richie was.

And Big Bill kept Richie’s mouth at bay. After spending some time together, he’d know exactly when Richie needed to be stopped. He’d _beep beep_ him, and that was it. Then they’d met Ben and Beverly when they were eleven, and the world was made better still. Richie’s afternoons were now smoking with Bev, teasing “Haystack” Ben, and playing guns with Big Bill. He couldn’t get enough of it.

His friends made him forget about everything shitty in his life, even though they were still proper losers. But they were together, and that was the important thing.

**

When Richie first looked at his soulmark, the only thing he could think of was _oh, the irony._ As it seemed, his soulmate was an even sassier little piece of shit, and whoever it was, they hated their mark too.

Richie expected that. People didn’t call him Trashmouth for nothing. It was only logical that he’d end up saying some stupid shit the first time he’d be next to his soulmate. It also seemed his soulmate had had a rough time because of their mark, and all Richie wanted to do was hold them and say sorry. He could only hope they didn’t hate _him_. That they would learn to love all his shitty voices and loudness and jokes. After all, he wanted someone to love, and to laugh with.

Richie had heard how the bullies went after people with unlucky marks (apparently, they’d gotten to the point of breaking a boy’s arm) but since his soulmark was in a fairly easy spot to hide, he’d never had any trouble in regard to it. Not that he already had enough with all the other aspects of himself that other boys had a tendency to make fun off.

Imprinted all across his back, Richie had a gigantic rant, all in caps-lock, that would be his soulmate’s first words to him. He'd mentioned it to Big Bill a couple of times (though Bill would correct him and change “mention” for “complain”; and “couple” for “a lot”) ( _God, Bill, I don’t have a fucking spot of clean skin in my back. I mean, I know my dick is long but this shit is longer I swear. I’m gonna turn my mark in for that essay in English, I’d get a straight A. Shit Bill my mark tells a better story than what you wrote._ ), but never really told him the whole thing. Even though he made it look like he couldn’t stand it, the mark actually made him feel reassured; his soulmate was rough around the edges too. It made his loneliness less heavy.

Anyway, the first ones who laid eyes on it were his friends, naturally.

They’d been playing at the quarry. Four thirteen-year-olds splashing around in the water, yelling and laughing their asses off. At first, no one had paid much attention to Richie’s mark, for everyone was showing theirs too. But it was Stuttering Bill, the little fucker, who’d focused all the attention on Richie.

“Sh-Shit, Richie,” He chuckled. “N-no wonder you t-to-hortured m-me protesting.”

Bev came around him to take a look, followed by the serene presence of Ben. “Woah, someone’s going to trash the Trashmouth.”

Richie rolled his eyes and turned around, feeling way too exposed for his liking. “But think about it guys, I’m finally going to have a worthy opponent.”

“ _N-Now_ you see the g-g-good in it.” Bill pushed him, making him loose balance. Richie laughed as he was going down and ended up swallowing a bunch of dirty water.

“Fuck you, Denbrough.” Richie said once he emerged, throwing water at Bill. “Yours is so lame,” On his collarbone, he had ‘ _Excuse me, are you William Denbrough?’_. Bill flushed as red as his hair and splashed water back at his friend.

They lost themselves playing, and the subject wasn’t brought up again for the rest of the afternoon. For them, it wasn’t such a big deal. That’s one of the things Richie loved the most about them. They were present in a way that his parents weren’t, so they became his family, fitting together like pieces in a puzzle. It was more than he could ever ask for.

But Beverly just had to ask, nevertheless. “Why are you afraid of it?” Richie almost dropped the cigarette he was smoking. His breath hitched and he coughed like it was his first time doing it.

“What?” Richie’s voice echoed back at him. They sat alone—both Bill and Ben on their way to their homes—a few feet away from the water. “Hon, I ain’t afraid of no—”

“Rich, every time something bothers you, you make a joke out of it.” She cut him short. Richie was hardly ever serious, so you had to press him a little bit. For once, he was speechless. “Don’t pretend like I don’t know you.”

Richie took a long drag of his cigarette, his elegant hands shaking. “Shit, Bev, you’re really putting me out there.”

“I’m sorry, but I thought you may need to talk about it.” Beverly spoke softly and put a hand to his shoulder. He flinched away from her as if her touch was fire.

“If I needed it, I would’ve told you.” He wouldn’t meet Beverly’s concerning eyes.

“Richie…”

“Sorry, Beverly, I can’t do this now.” He got up abruptly and stuffed his cigarette with his foot. Beverly watched him go, broken-hearted and with tears at the brink of her green eyes for her friend. And if he’d gotten home a few hours later, the street lights turning on, holding his glasses to his beat up face so they wouldn’t fall after they had crashed in the hot summer pavement, right next to Richie who’d fallen for a gutting punch on his nose; then no one commented on it. It was just the way the world moved in Derry.

**

“Dammit, Ben,” Richie grumbled as he opened the door to a place he’d though he would never step foot into: the library.

They had agreed on meeting at the Aladdin to see the new movie that had premiered, but since the library was in Richie’s way, Ben had asked him to pick up some sappy romantic novel he’d been waiting. And as much as he tried to, Richie couldn’t say no to good ol’ Haystack.

The smell of books instantly engulfed him, and he was stuck staring at the countless shelves for a solid five minutes before he shook out of his trance, taking out his phone to check Ben’s message. Richie would kill him if this made him miss something of the movie.

 _Alright,_ he though, _Romance books I’m coming for you._ Richie started walking, reading the signs, but having no fucking idea of where _Romance_ could be. Mindlessly wondering, he stumbled upon the section he was looking for, still clutching the phone in his hand to confirm the name of the book.

He was barely aware of two other boys in the same section, too busy looking for Ben’s book and finding it as fast as possible so this could all be over with. Though if he’d stolen a glance, he would have been awe-struck by the soft, brown eyed boy staring at Richie holding a pile of books that must have weighted as much as him, and sending a quirky remark or straight up flirting with him, because he was cute, cute, _cute!_

But no; “Books”, “Movie” and “Fuck You Ben” were all he could think about.

So, when his phone chimed with a text from the devil himself telling him to ‘never mind, Big Bill had brought it to him’, because Bill’s that fucking perfect gentleman, the third subject of interest run out of his mouth. Richie took a breath and screamed at his phone; “ _Fuck you!”_

A loud sound had him turning around and _finally_ looking at the smaller boy. Richie was immediately lost. It didn’t matter that the boy was sending daggers at him, almost oozing smoke out. He was the most beautiful human Richie had laid eyes on, nonetheless. An angel fallen on—

“OH! SO YOU’RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO GAVE ME THE WORST POSSIBLE SOULMATE MARK EVER! I’VE HAD TO STAND SO MUCH SHIT BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND, THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN HAVING THE WORDS “Fuck you!” PERMANENTLY MARKED ON YOUR SKIN!” Richie recognized _that_ rant the very first words in. His eyes widened to the point of being almost comic behind his glasses and, at the end, finally connecting the dots that the universe had given him a boy this cute as a soulmate, his expression turned into pure delight.

“Well, imagine having _that_ fucking essay written on your back in caps-lock.” He countered. The boy was just purely exasperated, and Richie had the funny impression that he looked like a chihuahua. Feisty little creature.

The curly boy next to his soulmate— _his soulmate!—_ suddenly started cackling. Well, if Richie had been in his position, he’d probably let out a good amount of chucks too. At least the guy had good humour. But he didn’t pay much mind to him. He was too caught up with the brunet boy, whose freckles dusted his face like the Milky Way. Richie had the strange urge to count them.

 _Shit,_ he was now worse than Ben when he’d been pining for Beverly.

“If I’d known you’d be this cute I wouldn’t have been complaining for the past seventeen years for my mark. I’m gonna have to apologize to Bill about this,” He laughed. The boy blushed, and Richie was officially over the moon.

He took his chance of wooing the boy—Eddie, he’d learned—when his original destination was mentioned. Richie wanted to get to know him more, and going to the movies seemed like a pretty great first date, right?

If the intimacy wasn’t broken by both his friends and Eddie’s. But no matter, Richie was sure they’d get plenty of alone time in the future. He was enjoying this like nothing ever. He’d finally found his soulmate.

**

“Hey, Richie!” Bev called once she’d spotted her friend. She noticed with strangeness that he wasn’t alone. Richie had never been the type of person who’d made friends easily. And he walked and interacted with the boy next to him as if they’d been long lost friends.

When Richie heard Beverly, he locked eyes with her and beamed a smile that had never before crossed his face. It was so _genuine_. “Hey, guys!” Richie waved and approached them. Both Bill and Ben were also looking as if they were watching aliens. “This is Eddie here,” He pointed to the pretty brunet next to him. “And that’s Stan and Mike!” The two boys behind Richie and Eddie, holding hands, waved.

A chorus of small “hi’s” resulted from Richie’s friends.

Without further explanation, Richie smirked and spoke again. “So! Shall we go in?” He totally wasn’t going to tell them who Eddie was. Richie was _living_ for their expressions. Fuck, it was hilarious. He just needed to extend the fun a liiiittle bit more.

Bill came to his senses and sent a frown in Richie’s direction, who just shrugged, and led the way to their seats in the theater. The movie passed with Richie making remarks every minute or so to Eddie sitting to his left, and avoiding the incredulous, hilariously lost looks Bill sent him from his right. Thankfully, Eddie was there to keep Richie controlled, otherwise he would’ve doubled over cackling within the first few minutes. He busied himself teasing and flirting with his soulmate, for making him laugh was Richie’s new favourite hobby.

Eddie had asked why Richie hadn’t told his friends about the whole soulmate thing, fearing he’d felt ashamed of Eddie, or even that maybe he didn’t like him at all. But Richie dismissed it with a; “Aw, Eddie, my love, I’m just trynna push Bill to the limit. All for the chucks, don’t worry.” And proceeded to snake an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. He’d thanked the theater for being so dark and hiding his creeping blush.

When the movie ended, the seven of them stepped outside to the warm air. Bill still had the same expression on his face. Beverly was the first to break.

“You got something to tell us, _Richard_? _”_ She crossed her arms and glared. Then Richie lost it.

It took him a good three minutes to stop his mad laughs, when he spoke still giggling, “Eddie is— _fucking hell guys—_ Eds here is my soulmate.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough,”

“Woah, congrats my friends!” Ben immediately closed his distance and hugged both Richie and Eddie in the warmest of bear hugs.

“Trashmouth, you stupid asshole, c’mere, my lover boys,” Bev joined the group hug.

“Holy _sh-shit_ , Richie. W-Why the fuck didn’t y-you te-hell us sooner? I’m s-s-so happy for you m-man.” Suddenly the seven were wrapped up in the hug, Richie and Eddie at the center.

“Yeah, yeah, aren’t I the luckiest?” Richie chuckled pinched Eddie’s cheek. He slapped the hand away.

“Wuh-Where’s my apology n-now?”

“Fuck you, Bill.”

“Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys!! If you liked it please leave a comment or kudos, they warm my heart and I respond to everything :D  
> 


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